


My Boo

by Random_Inked_Thoughts



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Crack, Discussion of Death, Fluff and Crack, Ghosts, M/M, Not Really Character Death, tablespoon of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26522152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Inked_Thoughts/pseuds/Random_Inked_Thoughts
Summary: When you died, you came back wearing whatever you were at the precise time of your death. It was pretty standard stuff. That was how it worked. That was how it always worked. Logan Sanders had been wearing a suit and tie when he had died. The suit was crisp and timeless, and the tie was an old favorite of his, given to him as a gift by his late sister. While his death itself had been unfortunate and altogether a little underwhelming, (he had died in the middle of a lecture on proper safety at a new hospital) he was one of the more pleased entities in the afterlife. He had been around for ages, longer than any of the other ghosts haunting his particular plot of land. Because of this, he was chosen to welcome their newest ghost, as he had for every ghost before them.Little did he know just how much of an impact that ghost would have on him.-----Do you like the found family trope? Do you like Intrulogical? Do you like to see your favorite sides engaging in friendly banter? Do you like ghosts? Well this might just be the fic for you!
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 27
Kudos: 191





	My Boo

**Author's Note:**

> I heard a rumor that y'all go feral for intrulogical (I'm back on my bullshit ahaha)
> 
> This is your cursory last warning before the fic btw!! This is a crack fic/fluffyyyyyy and is intended to be funny, but suicide, death, and the loss of time with loved ones are all brought up over the course of this work, since this is in fact, about ghosts, and I can't apparently write anything without adding a healthy dose of angst

When you died, you came back wearing whatever you were at the precise time of your death. It was pretty standard stuff. That was how it worked. That was how it always worked. 

Logan Sanders had been wearing a suit and tie when he had died. The suit was crisp and timeless, and the tie was an old favorite of his, given to him as a gift by his late sister. While his death itself had been unfortunate and altogether a little underwhelming, (he had died in the middle of a lecture on proper safety at a new hospital) he was one of the more pleased entities in the afterlife. He had been around for ages, longer than any of the other ghosts haunting his particular plot of land. Because of this, he was chosen to welcome their newest ghost, as he had for every ghost before them. 

However, he’d be getting ahead of himself if he allowed you to know about their newest addition before you learned a little more about all of the others. He’d want you to learn about them in chronological order, rather than just playing favorites. (If you asked him who his favorite was, he’d swear six ways from Sunday that he didn’t play favorites. That was a bold faced lie. Everyone knew who his favorite was.)

When he died, he accepted it swiftly and without question. Being an agnostic man, he didn’t have to come to terms with much at all. This was apparently where people went when they died, and honestly, there were worse things that could happen. Besides, it wasn’t like ghosts weren’t organized. He honestly had to applaud the efficiency of their system. He had a lovely “case manager” who went by the name of Fred, specifically assigned to help him become accustomed to the afterlife. 

He was alone, yes, but that also meant that he was the first ghost to “lay claim” to this particular plot of land. That meant that he had responsibility, and through that, structure. Logan could understand structure, it was comforting to him. Fred had told him that the land was his to haunt, though the agency would not tolerate any unsolicited spooks. Ghosts got a bad enough rep as it was. 

Logan understood that, and so he watched over the hospital for years. He followed the people that he’d known and listened to them. He read up on medical records while patients were asleep. And sometimes, just sometimes, a doctor would find a scrawl across the bottom of one of their patient’s files, offering advice or a new diagnosis. Logan would neither confirm nor deny if that was him. That being said, Logan saved countless lives. It kept him busy, and it gave him purpose. If this was eternity, it wasn’t so bad. 

The second ghost to appear had nearly scared Logan out of his metaphorical skin. Arguably, it shouldn’t have come as that much of a surprise, people die in hospitals all the time, but the twelve year old boy appearing out of nowhere would have alarmed even the most composed of individuals. Besides, Logan hadn’t seen anyone who could see him as well in years by this point. He was honestly quite impressed by the quality of the hospital he was haunting. 

The boy appeared in front of him at midnight, while Logan was making his nightly rounds. He flickered into existence, honey and hazel eyes and golden locks and chubby cheeks filling Logan’s field of view. 

Logan had stifled a small scream, but Janus had just stared up into his eyes analytically. His hospital gown had ruffled slightly in a wind that neither of them could feel. After a long pause, he nodded. “They couldn’t save me.” His voice was strangely somber, and it sounded wrong coming from a twelve year old. 

Logan had cleared his throat. “Yes, but I can assure you that the doctors here did everything in their power to save you,” he offered, trying to sound comforting. He wasn’t quite sure if he had succeeded. He’d watched over Janus for many nights, and seeing him standing in front of him was rather jarring. “Sometimes it’s just time.” 

Janus nodded once more, frowning a little bit, and that was that. “Alright,” he replied softly. And then he began to wander away. 

Logan bit his lip. 

He didn’t speak with the other boy again until three weeks later. Logan was standing at the foot of another patient’s bed, flipping through their files, and Janus walked up beside him, standing in silence. 

Almost afraid to break it, Logan kept examining the papers. Finally, Janus broke the silence. 

“That’s my brother.” 

“I know,” Logan replied, because he did know. The Devon twins had been admitted into the hospital at the same time, Janus much worse off than his brother. He’d spent too much time to count staring at their beds, trying to figure out how to help, if he could even help. He wished he’d figured something out sooner. There was a pause between the two of them, a silence that begged to be filled. 

“It’s better that he survived instead of me,” Janus said. 

Logan turned to look at him, curiosity flitting across his features. “How so?” he asked the child. 

In that moment, Janus looked wise beyond his age, eyes clouded with sadness, worry lines framing his small face. He shrugged. “People like him more than me. He’s charismatic, he does better in school, and we always knew that he was always going to be the successful one out of the two of us.” He looked down at his brother, his gaze softening as his tone turned bittersweet. “It’s better that he was able to hold on. I wouldn’t ever wish this on him.” 

“It’s not all that bad in the end,” Logan offered. 

Janus looked up at him then, tearing his eyes from his brother’s sleeping form like it pained him. “I never said it was,” he replied. Then, “He will make a full recovery, right?” 

Logan looked back at the sleeping boy, and he smiled a little bit. His cheeks were rosy and he let out a small sigh with every exhale. “Yes, Janus,” he said. “Your brother will be quite alright. His recovery is slow going, but I cannot foresee any complications arising.” 

Janus smiled, for the first time that Logan had seen since the other boy arrived. “That’s good,” Janus said softly, reaching out as though to touch his brother’s arm before pulling back. “That’s good,” he repeated. 

Six months later, Janus’ brother was ready to leave the hospital. Logan stood with Janus the entire time, the twelve year old flitting nervously around his family, his mother, his father, and his twin. The entire time, Janus looked like he wanted to reach out for them, to hug them one last time. Logan put a hand on his shoulder as they walked, following his family until they reached the door. 

Janus reached out one last time, fingers stopping just inside of the hospital doorway, tugged backwards. His brother stepped out into the day, sandwiched by his parents, the sunlight dancing in of his golden hair. Logan saw the tears in Janus’ eyes and, for the first time in his ghostly existence, cursed the rules for denying Janus what he so desperately craved. Empathy struck him like a blade.

He watched as Janus’ mother said something in his brother’s ear, and the other boy laughed, hesitantly. They were so sad, but they all looked so happy. Janus’ dad ruffled his brother’s hair, and Logan didn’t miss it when Janus touched the locks of silky blonde atop his own head. 

“Goodbye, -Mini,” he whispered, and Logan gritted his teeth, angry for the first time that they couldn’t leave. He felt a tiny hand slip into his own, and didn’t comment on it, standing in the doorway with Janus as they watched his family walk away into the unknown, where Janus couldn’t follow them.

“C’mon,” Logan whispered softly, tugging at Janus’ arm a little bit. His family was long gone, piled into their family sized car and having driven from the parking spot his parents had practically lived in during the duration of their children’s hospital stay. 

“Was I selfish?” Janus just asked him, staring into the outside, unmoving. 

“Rephrase your question for me?” Logan asked him. 

“Was I selfish to wish he would stay longer?” Janus looked up at him then, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Was I selfish to wish his recovery was slow and painful and filled with close calls, just so I could see him again and again?” He sounded hollow. 

Logan bit his lip, reaching out with his free hand and brushing the unshed tears from Janus’ cheeks. “No,” he whispered, pulling the boy closer and thinking of his own sister, gone before her time. “No, not at all.”

Janus sniffled once, and then he looked up again at Logan. “Can you teach me?” he asked him, voice watery. 

“Teach you?” Logan asked, and Janus nodded emphatically. 

“Teach me to be like you,” he said. “I want to know how to save lives, so no one else has to feel like me ever again.” 

Logan could feel his heart shattering and melting all at once, but he just nodded stiffly, keeping his composure mostly intact. “Of course I’ll teach you,” he said, “We do have an eternity, after all.” 

And Janus smiled again, and Logan vowed to do everything he could to keep this boy smiling, in spite of everything he’d gone through. 

Janus was a quick and motivated learner. Logan had never had a better pupil.

After too many years to count, the hospital was shut down and a mall popped up in its place, merging with a couple of the nearby buildings. Logan got a letter informing him that his property lines had been moved slightly and expanded, and that he was responsible for the upkeep of all the newer areas of his haunting ground as well. Since he had been the first ghost present on his ground, the deed was technically in his name. Janus was disappointed he didn’t get any sway on the legal side of things. Logan was just disappointed that he didn’t get to study his life’s work anymore, though he couldn’t argue with the new addition of a bookstore to his space. He and Janus coexisted peacefully, watching happy people pass through day after day. 

Logan was lucky he was there when Patton had died. It had been just him and Janus for a long time, but he liked being there at the time all the same. A new fountain had been installed in the very center of the shopping mall, and something had been malfunctioning lately. Logan hadn’t quite gotten around to fixing it yet, since he needed to find a time where there was no risk that a passer by or security guard might see the fountain “fixing itself,” or a suspicious mop floating through the air.

Patton had been out with friends, eighteen and all decked out in the 70’s style. He wore big, round glasses, and the most colorful outfit Logan had ever seen. It wasn’t his fault there was water on the floor and no warning sign. He slipped on the tile and cracked his head open on the back of the fountain. He was dead before you could say “Oh crap guys, I slipped on fountain water.”

Initially, Patton hadn’t taken it anywhere near as well as Janus did. This could be attributed to multiple factors. For one, Janus had passed away in his sleep, and awoke in the dark, completely at ease. Patton, on the other hand, sat up from his body and watched his blood trickling across the beige tile. 

“Hello,” Logan had said, clearing his throat awkwardly and stepping towards the new ghost. He had honestly not expected that, and was just as surprised as Patton. 

Patton had just been standing there, horrified, hands clasped over his mouth and tears welling up in his eyes. At Logan’s voice, he whirled around, and screamed. 

“It’s no use screaming. They can’t hear you,” Logan offered softly, trying not to sound like a serial killer. He wondered where Janus was. Probably watching the new candy shop. He had to resist smiling at that thought. Janus was decades old by now, but some things never change. He made a mental note to remind the boy that he was only allowed to steal sweets at night, when there was no one around. 

Patton’s scream slowly tapered off, but the tears in his eyes were the same. “But you can,” he whispered, voice shaky. “You can hear me scream.” His voice positively wobbled. 

“Yes.” Logan inclined his head slightly. “But I’m dead. My name is Logan. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe that your friends referred to you as Patton?” 

Patton took a moment to consider that before he threw himself into another round of hysterics, and Logan had to resist the urge to pinch his brow. This was going to be a long eternity. 

Looking back on how quickly Patton managed to ease into their little dynamic, Logan realized he should have given the other boy a little more credit. Patton’s outlook on life, and death by extension, was simply so psychologically different from anyone else that Logan had ever seen. Once the other boy had calmed down enough to think things through, he’d asked a couple of questions and then took a bit of time to think on his own. He hadn’t expected the simplicity with which Patton accepted his new situation. He clicked with both Logan and Janus perfectly, like he always should have been there. 

The three of them liked to play a people watching game, guessing interesting and outlandish tidbits of information about passers by and laughing at one another’s assumptions good naturedly. The game had to come to an end when Janus rattled off someone’s social security number and Logan realized that he’d stolen someone’s wallet. 

“It’s not my fault!” the deceptively youthful boy had protested, “He shouldn’t be keeping his social security card on his person anyway!” Nevertheless he huffed, straightening his light blue gown and trudging off to return the wallet with minimal suspicion. 

Patton had just laughed, eyes sparkling, and Logan felt a surge of paternal affection for both of the other boys. He smiled, a rarity. This just felt right. 

Patton was like the older brother Janus had never had, but their golden locks were almost identical, and Logan caught this look in Janus’ eyes sometimes, glassy and bittersweet, and he knew that Janus was remembering the past he never had a chance to really have. He didn’t want to think of the two of them as his children, but he certainly felt familital affection for both of them. 

Two years after Patton joined them, a fifteen year old boy threw himself off of the balcony. His name was Roman, and from the second he bolted up and out of his body, triumph in his eyes, Logan knew he was going to be tricky. 

“Yes!” he shouted, then paused. The light in his eyes dimmed as he looked at his pumped fist, the waverly outline barely noticeable. 

“Now why would you do that?” Logan asked him, trying not to sound as confused as he felt. 

“No,” Roman whispered slowly, backing through a bench. “No, no, no, I’m supposed to be dead!” 

“You are,” Logan replied simply. 

Roman shot him an angry look, tugging his bright red sweater tighter around himself and patting himself down. “No I’m not,” he replied stubbornly, and Logan found himself wishing that he was allowed to turn away ghosts that found themselves deceased on his premises. 

“I assure you, you most certainly are,” he replied, nodding at Roman’s actual body, crumpled and broken. “Look behind you.” 

He wished he could have seen the look on Roman’s face as he looked at himself. He wasn’t good with emotions, but he wasn’t sure whether the boy wanted comfort or space. He decided on the first. 

Roman flinched as Logan put his arm on his shoulder. “I know it’s hard to accept,” Logan said softly, averting his eyes from the corpse in front of them respectfully, “but this doesn’t have to be all bad. I will introduce you to the others when you’re ready.” 

“There are others?” Roman asked him, sounding a little scared. 

Logan just nodded. “Though none of them are here for quite the same reason that you are, they will certainly all empathize with your plight.” 

Roman’s gaze hardened, and he shrugged Logan’s hand off of his shoulder. “I don’t want their sympathy.” 

“I never said-” But Roman had already stalked off, his bright red hoodie mirroring the bright red stain around his physical body. Logan felt a little sick. 

Roman spent the next few months throwing himself off of the balcony again and again. At Fred’s recommendation, Logan ordered a book on “Breaking the Ice: 100 Questions to Ask Your New Ghostly Roommates!”. 

Thirty years passed and their dynamic was finally settled. Janus and Patton got along just fine, and with another five or six years, Roman opened up to the two of them as well. Logan was pleased that they were able to coexist peacefully once more. Sure, it was a little livelier than it had been when it was just him and Janus, all those years ago, but that didn’t mean it was any worse. 

The mall closed down, the stores clearing out and becoming run down and abandoned. Now they were free to do what they pleased in the empty building, Roman and Janus competing as they slid down escalators and Patton judging them. Logan lamented the loss of his bookstore for a couple of years, but the others did their best to distract him, and Janus revealed that he had stolen a book or two that he knew Logan liked when he saw the going out of business signs. He’d survived just fine without a bookstore before the mall, and he could survive without it. 

The days went on, and nothing really changed. Logan was okay with that. He was pretty sure everyone else was too. 

Virgil had been one of the last of their small band to die. Technically, he’d died in the field outside of the building, but Patton, feeling sad for the lonely ghost in the field, appealed to the afterlife court about his case, and after much reviewing, they had waived their initial, usual rules for haunting and assigned Virgil to Logan’s plot of land as well. 

Virgil had been trampled to death by a crowd at an MCR concert. He had been nineteen at the time, and decked out in a band shirt and ripped jeans. There were bangles all over his arms, and his eye makeup had been smudged beyond recognition, creating a muddy mess around his eyes. 

“Welcome to our plot,” Logan had said when he first met him, opening the door and gesturing Virgil inside. The mall was run down and empty, sure, but they tried to keep it fairly dust free. Cleanliness was vital to Logan, having been a doctor and all. 

“Thanks, I think.” Virgil was shy and reclusive, but he really didn’t seem all that bummed out about his death. Luckily, he’d come to terms with ghostliness before he ‘moved in,’ so Logan didn’t have to worry about that at all. It was more of a relief than he thought it would be. Virgil wandered the mostly empty mall curiously, looking vaguely interested. Logan followed him closely. “Not quite sure what happened,” Virgil continued. 

“Well, you’ve died,” Logan said helpfully. Honestly, he was getting a little sick of telling that to people. It was a horrible icebreaker. 

“No, I get that I functionally died, I just don’t get why I’m suddenly here.” 

“Why are any of us here?” Logan asked him. 

“No.” Virgil sighed. “I mean why am I not still in the field?” 

“Ah.” Logan pushed his glasses up his nose. The left lens had cracked when he hit the floor, at his exact moment of death, and so the left lens was cracked in his afterlife, forever. “Well, when a person passes, they become a spirit, or a ghost, if you will. That ghost is assigned a plot of land if they are the first to die there. From there, that is their land to protect. If any others die in the same place, there is an agreement that the senior ghost will take the younger ghosts underneath their figurative wing and shepherd them into the afterlife. Since you died in a field, you would have been assigned to the field. Patton pleaded for your case and got you assigned to my plot of land instead.” 

Virgil was staring at him. “Why would Patton do that?” he asked. 

Logan shrugged a little. “I don’t imagine there’s much to do in a field. It probably gets very wet when it rains. He was probably just trying to be nice.” 

“Oh.” Virgil said. Then, “Who’s Patton?” 

“That’s me!” Patton appeared out of thin air, throwing his arms up. 

Virgil let out an almost comical gasp, jumping about four feet into the air and hovering at around that height. 

“Oops!” Patton whispered dramatically, covering his mouth guiltily. “Logan told us not to bother you until you were settled but I just couldn’t help myself. Sorry!” He grinned sheepishly. 

Logan just sighed. “Virgil, this is Patton. Patton, Virgil.” Honestly, he didn’t know what he expected. 

“Nice to meet you,” Virgil whispered from where he was hovering. He extended a hand down tentatively, which Patton took with another giggle, tugging Virgil back down to the floor. 

Virgil was already getting along with them better than Roman had. This was a good sign. 

Speaking of Roman, his introduction to Virgil went just as well as Patton’s had, the immortalized fifteen year old putting out one sweater clad palm in Virgil’s direction, declaring him “too angsty for life,” and giving him his widest grin when Virgil took his hand. 

Patton flitted around the two of them the entire time, clearly excited to talk to Virgil. Logan couldn’t really blame him, Virgil was the first kid “his age” that he’d been able to talk to in a while.

“Thanks,” Virgil said with a small grimace. 

Roman had then scuttled off, muttering something about finding... something. Logan didn’t quite catch what he said. 

Janus was the one he was worrying about. Then again, “Look, a baby!” probably wasn’t the best opening line to begin a death-long friendship between the two of them. Logan was shooting Janus a glare before he even finished his exclamation. 

“Who are you calling a baby?” Virgil had asked him with a snort, looking him up and down. “You’re like twelve, pipsqueak!” Then he blinked as the reality of that statement settled in. “You’re like, twelve.”

“Maybe in your years,” Janus replied smoothly, rolling his eyes and skating right over any discussion on the trauma of death in early childhood. “But I’ve been on this Earth since before your parents were even thought of.” 

“Wait, how old are you?” Virgil asked him. 

“Twelve,” Janus replied, his tone slightly mocking. 

Virgil paused. His eyes narrowed. “And how long have you been twelve?” 

“A while.” 

“I swear to God, you did _not_ just ‘Twilight’ me.” Virgil crossed his arms with a huff. 

Janus blinked at him, his smug facade crumbling slightly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Virgil shot him a weird look. “Um, right, older than dirt. Twilight is this super new book, I think it came out like two, maybe three years ago? Anyways, one of the characters is a vampire-” 

Janus let out a loud snort of his own. “A vampire?” he asked. “Do I look like a vampire to you?” 

“No, wait, it’s just cause they’re immortal, and you’re immortal, and-” Virgil started to protest, his and Janus’ voices overlapping while Patton giggled. 

Logan looked back at his family and let his mind drift lazily. He wasn’t sure when they’d become his family, but he knew he wouldn’t give them up for the world. 

Virgil and Patton got together in 2015. There wasn’t a lot of fuss about it, one day Logan walked down and Patton was standing on his tiptoes, pulling Virgil down by his hoodie and into a passionate kiss. Virgil was floating, which he did sometimes when he felt overwhelmed, and his cheeks were a brilliant red. 

Logan just cleared his throat, and the two of them jumped apart. 

“Hi, Logan!” Patton said, sounding a little breathless. He had a big grin on his face, and even as Logan watched him, his gaze flicked back over to Virgil quickly. 

“Hi, Logan...” Virgil replied, with much less enthusiasm. He wasn’t making eye contact. Logan narrowed his eyes. 

Sure, he and Virgil were close. He saw Virgil as like, maybe the teenager that lived next door and watched his dog for him when he went on vacation, like a kid he watched grow up. But Patton? Patton was practically his child. 

“You. Me. Talk.” Logan gritted out, and made a beeline in the opposite direction, not even waiting to see if Virgil was following him. Once they turned the corner, Logan faced him. 

“Look, Virgil, you seem like a fine young man,” Logan started, and Virgil shrunk in on himself a little. _I sound like my father,_ Logan thought, amused. A little bit of him was amazed he still remembered what his father sounded like. “I’ve known you for more than enough years to confirm that you are kind to others and reliable. But if you hurt Patton…” he trailed off. The logical conclusion to that sentence was, “they won’t even find your body,” but for one, that was super rude and just not really his style, and two, it didn’t really make much sense, what with them being ghosts and all. 

Luckily, Virgil just nodded, looking like a bobblehead for a second. “Message received.” 

Logan immediately nodded, straightening his glasses and shooting Virgil his usual tight lipped smile. “Excellent.” 

It was another ten years before anyone joined them. The year leading up to 2020 was stuffed full of “2020 vision” jokes, courtesy of Patton and Virgil, and Janus privately congratulated Logan on his century of un-life. Roman decided that 2020 was the year he would get a six pack, and he vowed to do a thousand push ups a day until he was “absolutely ripped” (his words, not Logan’s). 

“This is going to be a great year!” he exclaimed, grinning excitedly. He tossed his hair, flicking the long amber locks out of his eyes. He’d been due for a haircut when he had died. 

“Yup, just like last year was a great year,” Virgil replied dryly. “Exactly like last year, actually. Because nothing ever changes around here.” 

“Oh, you sweet summer child,” Janus replied, with a tut. 

“You were dead before Game of Thrones was even written!” Virgil protested. Patton was draped around his neck, listening to their conversation with a small grin on his face. 

Logan had bitten his tongue on explaining to Roman that push ups were not an ab centric exercise, but he couldn’t help but point out that they were immortalized in the afterlife, and could not, in fact, change their bodies in any way, shape, or form. Roman had spent a couple of days sulking. 

Virgil had been right, for the most part. For the first few months of 2020, it might as well still have been 2019, for all the change their scenery went through. However, as September rolled around, a chill began to fill the air and a sense of unrest seemed to settle within their group. 

It was the seventh of September when it happened. The moon shone brightly overhead, visible through the glass top to the old mall. Janus was beating Roman and Virgil at Bullshit while Logan and Patton watched. That was for the best though. There was nothing more jarring than hearing Patton’s angelic voice sweetly call out, “Bullshit!” as you tried to get rid of your last card. It was probably a chilly night, but none of them could really feel that unless they wanted to. 

Janus had won the last two hundred and six games. Roman had won one. 

“Two queens,” Roman said confidently, placing two cards on the top of the accumulating stack in the center. 

“Bullshit,” Janus called, sounding almost bored. 

“Wha- how?” Roman protested, not even bothering to flip his cards over to prove Janus was correct, instead just grabbing the whole stack. 

“Simple,” Janus replied, “There are only four queens in a standard deck. I started off with one queen, and the first time queens came up Virgil played his queen on top of the pile. Later, when queens came up again, you placed your own queen atop the pile. From there, when Virgil later fibbed about having any aces, I called bullshit on him. He then took the cards back into his hand, leaving him with two queens, me with two queens, and you with none.” 

Roman and Virgil stared at him. 

“Dude, what the hell-” 

“Guys, did you hear that?” Patton asked suddenly, interrupting them. 

“Really not the time, Patton,” Roman said. 

“Seriously, you’re like six!” Virgil protested, glaring at Janus. 

“Don’t hyperbolize, Virgil, it’s so unflattering.” Janus rolled his eyes. 

“You can’t possibly be beating us this badly without cheating!” 

“Oh Roman, when did I ever say I _wasn’t_ cheating?”

A dramatic gasp. “You lied to us!” 

“...you do know what game we’re playing, right?”

“Guys, seriously!” Patton again. 

“Betrayed, by my own friend!” That was Roman. 

“Oh, grow up!” 

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Wow, check out the digs!” 

Their heads whipped around. Logan stiffened. “Flashlight,” he hissed. “Everyone drop the cards!” 

They couldn’t be seen or heard by people, but anyone would find it strange to see a bunch of playing cards floating in a circle. The small cascade of cards made fluttering sounds as they hit the ground.

A mop of messy green hair poked up from the other side of the fountain. Logan backed away slowly. Their intruder was a wild eyed twenty-something man, with snakebites and a large, tentacled tattoo up his left arm. He was wearing a black muscle shirt, and skinny black jeans. Dirt was smeared across his cheek and nose, and his nails were painted a sea green. His boots made little clicking noises on the dusty floor. 

“This is perfectly fine,” Logan reminded the rest of his group with a whisper. He knew they didn’t have to whisper around people, but it seemed to make everyone feel better, so that’s what he went with. Virgil was already floating nervously a couple of feet off the floor. “People come through here sometimes, they always leave. We just have to wait it out.” 

They all stared at the man, who was walking in circles around the fountain. 

“It isn’t even October yet,” Janus muttered. “People usually only come around October.” 

“Spooky season,” Virgil muttered. His voice lacked its usual enthusiasm over Halloween. 

“We’re fine,” Logan reminded them once more, another of his duties as senior ghost. He kept them all calm when they had cause not to be. “They always leave eventually-”

“Come out come out wherever you are!” 

The yelling startled all of them. Logan saw Roman jump, hovering in the air next to Virgil and backing away from the circling man. Technically, people could pass through them without harm, but they always complained about the chill. 

“Come on!” The man screamed again. “I know you’re here! I’ve heard moaning and screaming coming from here for ages, I know there are ghosts here!”

Janus shot Roman a pointed look. 

“What?” Roman replied defensively. “So I’m a bad loser! He can’t hear me! It’s probably just the wind. Don’t pin this on me, you prepubescent little shit!” 

“That sounds awfully defensive for someone who’s completely void of fault,” Janus replied, studying his nails. A smirk was tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“Just because he can’t hear you doesn’t mean you should take that as a reason that screaming is okay,” Virgil pointed out. 

Logan returned his attention to the man, who was now muttering under his breath as he kicked stones around. “Come on,” he muttered. Then, high and mocking, “Of course he wouldn’t want to date you, Remus! Not even a ghost would want to date you, Remus!” He growled. “I’ll show them!” 

“Wait, why is he here?” Virgil said with an owlish blink. 

“You heard him the first time,” Janus replied, sounding disbelieving. 

“I know like three people died in this mall, you’ve gotta be here somewhere!” Remus interjected. “Come on, I just want a date! One date! We don’t even have to go steady if you aren’t ready for that kind of commitment yet!”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “What sort of idiot-?”

“Blasted fucking spirits,” Remus muttered, hearing nothing. “Maybe I’m not desirable enough for them yet.” He paused a moment. “I’ve got it!” 

“Wait, what is he doing?” The raw fear in Virgil’s voice escalated as Remus grabbed the bottom edge of his shirt and pulled it over his head. “No, jeez dude! I know you can’t hear me but jeez, please no!” 

But Remus had shed his shoes and was already struggling out of his skinny jeans, hopping around as he tugged at them and fumbled with the fabric. “They make these things so tight-” he grumbled, fully taking the jeans off of one of his legs and tugging at the pant leg still covering his second leg. 

“It’s like a train wreck, you just can’t look away…” Janus muttered. 

“Look away,” Virgil advised him. 

“Aha!” Remus cried triumphantly, pulling his jeans off and stumbling back slightly. The look of satisfaction on his face turned quickly to horror, however, as he stumbled further backwards, arms cartwheeling cartoonishly as he tipped. 

“Oh, he’s gonna fall,” Virgil said, worrying at his lower lip. Patton slipped his hand into Virgil’s.

There was a sickening crunch, and then Remus let out another small hiss of pain. Logan looked over in alarm, seeing that Remus had seemingly impaled himself on one of the various rusted steel bars poking out from the walls. 

“Oh my gosh!” Roman exclaimed, sounding absolutely horrified. “Oh! Oh, my gosh!” 

“Alright, whose job was it to deal with the steel bars?” Logan asked them. “Someone needs to take responsibility, I gave out that job years ago, who forgot?”

The rest of the group shuffled nervously, Roman shaking his head emphatically and Virgil just shrugging his shoulders. 

“It was Patton,” Janus offered. 

“I- I must have missed one,” Patton whispered quietly. His eyes were as big as saucers. 

“Way to go, Patton. A man is dying because of your mistake,” Janus replied dryly. “Good one.”

“Hey now, we all make mistakes,” Roman said. “Remember that time that you mistook a small dog for a person and panicked?” 

Janus flushed. “Shut up.” 

“Like hell I will-”

“Guys, please, a man is _dying,”_ Patton whispered emotionally. 

“Right.” Janus straightened up respectfully. Behind Patton’s back, he mouthed, ‘I’ll get you later,’ to Roman, who returned his glare with one of his own. 

Remus let out a massive gasp as he sat up from his body, clutching at his chest. His hands came away empty, his semi corporeal chest intact. 

There was a moment of silence. 

“Sweet,” Remus whispered with a grin. 

And Logan took the lead, as he always did. “Hello, Remus.”

Remus jumped about a mile into the air at that, before making eye contact with Logan and letting out a tiny giggle. “You’re a ghost!” he exclaimed, giddy. “I found you!” 

That threw him for a loop. “Well, you only found me because…” Logan hesitated, clasping his hands and taking on a more solemn tone, “because you’re dead, Remus. Now I’ve heard that this can be hard to come to terms with-”

“I’m dead?” Remus exclaimed. 

“I- yes, you died just now.” Logan gestured at his body, making a small face of discomfort. 

Remus whirled around and let out another comical gasp. “Oh dude, that is _sick,”_ he whispered, squatting down and poking his own cheek, chalky and white in death. “Awesome.” 

Logan stared at him. “You are not bothered?”

“Naw,” Remus replied, distracted. He continued prodding at himself. “This will make my roommate feel super guilty.” 

“He’ll feel guilt over… your untimely death?” Logan asked him, making sure he had his facts straight. 

“Oh hell yeah, super fucking guilty,” Remus replied. “My last words to him were, ‘What if I die out there, looking for my ghostly boyfriend?’ And can you guess what he said in response?” 

“What did he say?” Logan asked him dryly. 

Remus leaned in. His eyes were an electric green, matching his hair. “He said, ‘I don’t care’.” He let out a small whoop and leaned back, cackling. “That’ll show him!” 

“You are…” Logan trailed off, looking for the right words. “...unbelievably morbid.” 

“It comes with the depression,” Remus helpfully supplied with a wink. 

“Ah,” Logan replied, tactfully. He averted his eyes from Remus’ bare chest. 

“Well, that’s life!” Remus replied cheerily. “Or… death, I suppose.” He looked Logan up and down, grinning. “You’re pretty good looking, with those chiseled cheekbones and all. Way cuter than any of those other guys at school. You know, I still have a bet with my roommate to win…” He did a little shimmy and gave Logan a knowing look. 

“You’ve been dead for five minutes and you’re already flirting with me?” Logan asked him, cheeks inadvertently flushing. He couldn’t really help it, no one could deny that Remus was cute, and while he hadn’t felt the need for a romantic relationship until this point, the fact that there was now someone his age did open up several new possibilities he had yet to consider. 

“Well I’d rather flirt with you than any of these other disagreeable folks,” Remus gestured to Logan’s small posse of ghosts. “What is that kid, like, eight?” 

“Closer to eighty than eight, but thanks for noticing,” Janus said dryly. He crossed his arms. 

Remus shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I won’t date kids, regardless of whether or not they’re old enough to be my grandfather. My point still stands.” 

“Don’t you think that’s moving a bit fast?” Logan asked him. 

“Well you know what they say,” Remus replied with another of his grins. His snakebites glinted in the low light. “Live fast, die young!” 

There was an awkward beat of silence. 

“Well, I really nailed that one!” 

That was what got him. Logan let out a small giggle, slapping his hand over his mouth as soon as he did. But it was too late, the damage was done. 

“Was that a giggle?” Janus asked him quietly. 

“Shut your mouth, Janus.” 

“No, I’m pretty sure that was a giggle.” Janus was grinning, he could feel it. Logan flushed further, avoiding eye contact with the other spirit. 

“It was!” Remus replied happily. “He thinks I’m funny!” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves-” Logan said, holding up a hand in a ‘stop’ motion, but Remus just laughed and tugged on his extended arm, pulling the usually so composed spirit closer to him. “W-what are you doing?” Logan asked him. He couldn’t stop asking him questions. His head felt a little funny. Why was he acting like this?

(“Yeah, Logan was smitten from the moment he laid eyes on him,” Virgil would later say. 

“Oh, of course,” Patton would agree with a small giggle. “It was plain as day. Kind of cute, really. He’s been alone for so long, I’m glad he managed to find someone.”

“We all could do with a little less PDA from them, though,” Virgil would agree. 

Logan would be heard screaming in the distance.)

“I’m about to kiss you!” Remus said cheerily, gazing into Logan’s wide eyes. “You have a five second window to either shove me away or punch me in the face, but if you don’t I’m going to kiss you!” 

“What?” Logan said intelligently, blinking twice. 

“Great!”

And then Remus pulled him into a deep kiss, tugging Logan down to his level and wrapping his arms around his neck. 

When they pulled apart, Logan was still slightly dazed. 

“Yup,” Remus said with a nod. “You’re the one. Ghost boyfriend! Fuck you, Kyle!” 

Roman laughed at the look on Logan’s face, watching the older spirit reach up and touch his lips like he was checking they were still attached to his face. 

“I do have one question though…” Remus said with another small giggle, placing his hands on his lips. 

“You may ask me anything,” Logan replied. “I will do my best to respond to your satisfaction.”

“Why am I mostly naked?” Remus gestured down at himself, and Logan flushed again. 

“Ah.”

**Author's Note:**

> I low key wanna write more for this universe? Like idk, some spirit of creativity posessed me to write this in legit two days and I thought it would be a oneshot but I kinda wanna keep going with it for some reason. Not quite sure what I'd do though. 
> 
> (also yes I named Janus' twin Gemini)


End file.
